A Wish Granted
by Matsuo Asuka
Summary: Nathalya will become one with her brother. This story has no plot whatsoever. Nathalya/Ivan, Belarus/Russia.
1. Part I

A Wish Granted

A Note: Salut, mes amis! Ça va? As per the usual, I don't own Hetalia. That's a given. If I did, I wouldn't be writing for , would I? I'd be busy creating more of the actual story, for people like me to generate more ridiculous fandom. This is the first Hetalia fic I have ever written, and here's the real kicker:

IT'S HET.

That's right, this isn't yaoi. It's straight! I know, it's shocking, and your very world is being torn from its axis and ripped to pieces. But enjoy it anyway, like I do. *laughs*

_Part I_

He was hiding somewhere in the big, empty, drafty house. He had long since disappeared down a hallway, hastily excusing himself (or something like that) as soon as he had seen her.

"Ivan, oh Ivan…where did you go?" She whispered to herself. The threadbare carpet barely absorbed her voice or her footsteps as she glided down the vacant hall, twisting doorknobs as she went. They all gave, and she frowned in disappointment. So then he was on a different floor?

No.

As she closed the last door, something moved in the dark, dusty recesses of the room beyond. Crafy, hiding in one of the unlocked rooms this time.

"I found you."

A whimper like an injured animal was the reply she received as she flung the door wide. The rush of air stirred up a flurry of dust, and she heard Ivan cough and sneeze. Hiding behind that table, then? Confidently she strode through the dim room, and promptly overturned the obstructive piece of furniture. Ivan yelped and backed against the wall, his shining violet eyes regarding her with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Nervously, his gaze darted around her, and as he attempted to dash past her, a well-aimed swing of Ivan's very own cold metal friend was rewarded with a sound thwack. Ivan collapsed in an unconscious heap in the dust, and Nathalya smiled wickedly at his back.

He couldn't get away now.


	2. Part II

_Part II_

Pain.

Paralysis?

He opened his violet eyes, but closed them again as his face contorted in pain. There was an ache in his skull. What had…?

Oh, yes. Nathalya.

There was pain because she had assaulted him with his own pipe, and the paralysis was better explained as immobilization. He could move, just not at the moment. Little sister had cleverly bound his wrists and ankles to the bedposts, apparently. It went without saying that he was slightly disturbed to find himself naked. For some reason or another.

"Oh, Ivan, you're awake."

In her voice, he detected happiness, but it was hollow, like the happiness in his own voice. He felt the mattress to his left depress, and managed to open his eyes again. The light stung, and it took a moment for him to adjust.

The color immediately drained from his face, then rushed back to it only a half second later as his eyes and aching brain processed Nathalya's acute lack of clothing. Her usual modest dress was replaced with nothing but soft white stockings, snowy lace panties…and Ivan's scarf.

"Oh, your face is flushed. Are you okay?" Nathalya mocked gently, placing a frail hand against his cool cheek. He twitched away from her touch slightly, and she frowned. "Ivan, please…I only want to be one with you, to be as close to you as I can. Please, accept me." The gleam in her eyes was unsettling, and he swallowed thickly.

The slim hand on his face slid down to his uncomfortably exposed neck, and her touch made him shiver. Her fingers danced along his collarbone, and down the middle of his broad chest. He closed his eyes again, but then her touch disappeared, and the mattress shifted again. Suddenly, in fear of what she might do, his eyes snapped open again, only to see her climbing onto the bed, closer than ever. A smooth thigh sheathed in white stocking swung over his hips; she was straddling him now. He wasn't naïve, but he wasn't sure what to make of this sight, either.

His head still hu—

Nathalya's hands were touching him, touching him there, trying to coax him into hardness. He gasped and screwed his eyes shut again, but couldn't convince himself to keep them closed. Her effort was paying off, and he looked down his nose at her. Her indigo gaze met his and smoldered for a moment before she smirked, and dipped her head down to assist her hands.

He watched in open-mouthed anticipation as Nathalya's pink tongue darted between her lips to lap his half-formed erection into completion. As she traced the head, she glanced up at him once more, and he nearly forgot how to breathe.

Her small hand squeezed him once more before her attention ceased completely. His forehead creased, but he soon received an answer as to why she had stopped. She was removing the lace panties, and she tossed them aside. Her gaze found him again, and her porcelain face betrayed a hint of apprehension.

"Nathalya…"

"We're going to become one, Ivan."

She offered him an almost sweet smile before she unceremoniously impaled herself on his prominent erection. He gasped again, and saw white for a moment, but heard her make an odd sound; like someone had kicked her in the stomach.

As his glazed violet eyes focused once more, he saw her sitting atop him, an arm across her stomach, catching her breath. Her expression was pained as she lifted her hips once, and descended once more. His breathing was getting heavy, but he didn't fail to notice the trickle of red on the inside of her thigh as she rose and fell yet again. It stained the top of her pretty stocking.

Gradually, her face became more relaxed, and she moved her arm away from her stomach, instead resting her hands on his abdomen. Vaguely, she used this for leverage, and the speed of her slim hips increased somewhat. Little pleasured moans ghosted past her rosy lips, and her smallish breasts bounced each time she came down. A bright flush colored her face, and contrasted sharply with her blonde hair.

The inside of Nathalya's warm folds was incomparably hot and slick, and it greatly frustrated him that he could only thrust weakly against her weight. The pleasure was enough to override his frustration, though, and her virgin passage only needed to work up and down that length a little more…

"Oh, Ivan…"

Her eyes swam with unshed tears of pain and pleasure, and her slim body rocked back as she said his name once more.

Hotter.

Wetter.

Tighter.

With a shudder, a groan, and one more thrust again her hips, he felt his release with glorious satisfaction, emptying into the pulsing sheath.

For a moment she collapsed, sated, against his smooth chest, both of them slick with sweat. Far too soon, she lifted herself away, unable to hide the trembling in the tired muscles of her legs as she stood, and untied his wrists and ankles.

Without a backward glance, Nathalya retrieved her discarded panties, leaving his scarf behind in exchange, and made an awkward and hasty exit.

As he stared at the ceiling, Ivan chuckled to himself.

"Nathalya, you can't leave. We're one now…"


End file.
